


Dibs on you

by IDontGiveA



Category: South Park
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Anal Sex, Barebacking, Bittersweet, Blow Jobs, Deepthroating, Dirty Talk, M/M, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, but drunk stan isn't, kyle's got the heart eyes for stan, sober stan is in denial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-29 15:00:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20437964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IDontGiveA/pseuds/IDontGiveA
Summary: Kyle would’ve had no regrets putting and gloriously losing all his money on ‘Stan and him forever’.





	Dibs on you

Navy blue met something between emerald and olive, a split second before their lips did. A mere glimpse, a blink, an excuse for Stan to tell himself that life was still okay, somehow. Kyle didn’t display any sign of indecision or irritation, he knew the drill. Stan was at least as transparent as he was easy on the eyes but Kyle would let him have it before it was too late to salvage any of these precious moments.

Bitter met sweet in the lowlight, familiar flavors and odors and spit travelling from one tipsy tongue to another, becoming a gross mixture in this sloppy, messy kiss out by the pool. Hungry met hungrier and just before it became too painful to endure, Stan broke the kiss. All at this stupid, _stupid_ party Kyle didn’t even want to go to in the first place, and the look on his face screamed exactly that: _Fuck you for having your way with me._

“Everything cool, dude?” Stan slurred slightly, wiping the spit-glossed lips with his wrist.

The stupid party was otherwise known as Token’s annual ‘End of the fucking year’ bonanza (name provided by courtesy of Clyde and his unhealthy obsession with Netflix Originals). Every summer, July to be exact, the whole class was kindly invited to commemorate the ending of yet another shitty school year. This particular shitty school year was considered to be somewhat special though, since it was their last one before they’d all run off to college or god knows where. Usually, it was the night where at least a few people empty their stomachs onto some exquisite piece of furniture, have their virginity stolen, or just casually supply their super best friends seemingly tireless demand for affection.

_Do you even know that you’re ruining me?_

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” Kyle forced a smile.

It would’ve been endurable, yeah. Kyle even dared to think he would’ve maybe enjoyed it a little, being social and all. But _also_ this particular shitty school year, Wendy had once again decided that it was for the better if she and Stan ended things, which left his best friend becoming a wreck, quite frankly. No problem, usually – Kyle was so used to it. Stan always was after all, after each of these dozens of endings. But this time the Marsh boy really outdid himself, and Kyle wasn’t so prepared anymore.

It had been weeks. Weeks and weeks, and _months_?

Kenny picking up Stan’s sorry ass from random gas stations in the early hours, Kyle holding back the hair while Stan’s weak and malnourished body was trembling from the nauseous feeling, not much more than a dead looking face hovering above the toilet seat, a fine string of saliva still connecting him to it. Kyle had stood by, clearly annoyed but too shocked by the harsh reality of alcoholism to say anything, having a hard time not triggering his own gag reflex, finding that by now, it was easier to count the nights when his best friend was sober than the other way around.

Kyle would wipe off the remnants of vomit and snot on Stan’s bottom lip and demand he would rinse his mouth. Stan did, before he went on to have a legendary stare-down with the oh so familiar bathroom wall, stubbornly counting its tiles until he made a mistake and had to start counting all over again. Stans refusal to swallow his pride hung in the air so thickly, it threatened to strangle both of them, but the redhead was just relieved Stan survived the night. On most days, Stan would stay quiet, preferring to avoid any conflict. On rare occasions, he was too fed up with Kyle’s drilling stare.

\---

“Goddammit just, … just say it, Kyle. So we can get it over with.” Stan huffed, tone adopting a certain manner which Kyle hated because it almost felt like Stan had designed it to provoke him, specifically. Kyle knew very well what he meant but he’d come to the conclusion that Stan had suffered enough for one night, no need for a lecture in the early hours.

“Just say _what_?” he opted for instead.

“How you… how you told me… all that crap about- ..drinking isn’t the solution blabla, … just look at what it did for your dad blabla… you know, how you’re always right and all that.” – he hiccupped – “A-and oh, oh Stan, dude, _I’ve told you_.” Stan continued, trying his best to make his high-pitched impression of Kyle sound unbearably nagging and annoying, even caring to lift his arms for some dramatic gesturing supporting his act. Kyle rolled his eyes, hand on the bony hip. Despite the unholy time of day, he was ready to get mocked, once again willing to be Stan’s punching bag if he thought it’d get him somewhere, which of course Kyle knew it wouldn’t, never did. He’d been with Stan all his life after all, he knew the boy was just shooting himself in the foot right now.

“You should…should stay away from Wendy, Stan, she’s no good – dude, and she.. and oh maybe, maybe best talk to a, a fucking… uh. A doctor again and …, dude, yeah, maybe.. that’ll, that’ll help. I mean it didn’t uh, it didn’t do it the, the last fucking… what, like ten times?” – he snorted – ”But hey-”

“Shut up, Stan.” Kyle warned tiredly, but Stan didn’t seem to be in the mood for listening. His breathed laugh was just mocking Kyle at this point.

“Have some tea… y’know… some little pity talk before you.. you fucking kill yourself anyway-”

Maybe it had actually been _Kyle_ shooting himself in the foot all along.

“Fuck you, Stan!” the redhead yelled, pushing Stan slightly. “You know that’s fucking not what I meant when I suggested talking to a professional. I just can’t…“ – his voice broke for a second, tone growing frustrated – ”I just feel like Kenny and I trying to help you isn’t doing it this time, it’s not enough, it’s never enough, it’s… it’s just not, okay? And I don’t know how to handle it anymore, fuck, I don’t… I can’t help you this time. You wanna kill yourself so desperately? Fine Stan, go ahead! But don’t you fucking dare saying I didn’t try to save your pathetic ass!”

Quiet again and Stan dared to look up, wondering when the hell the room started spinning.

Kyle’s chest area was littered with reddish blotches, a visible sign of him being either outraged, excited or deadly nervous. Classmates used to tease him for it from the fourth grade on, slowly devouring his self-esteem by the time. Stan remembered comforting Kyle through the door when he hid in the bathroom stalls again because he suddenly didn’t want to do that speech or be part of the debate club anymore. Back then it didn’t seem like it, but those days were easier times and it hurt knowing they couldn’t ever go back and relive them and make all the right choices this time, knowing they’ve both grown up too fast, knowing that this time, it won’t be a thing they’d both laugh about in a few years.

Stan wanted to jump up, scream something back – _Fuck you Kyle, it’s not like I asked you to do this! _– but his body didn’t want to cooperate.

He wore a vacant expression, body littered with goosebumps from the nauseous feeling and Kyle unexpectedly screaming at him, slowly losing the inner fight. He tried his best holding in the tears, he hated crying during an argument, he hated to proof anyone who thought he hasn’t got his shit together right, hated to proof Kyle right even though he already knew he was winning this. Stan was caught up in denial too deeply to let his guard down now.

_Fuck you Kyle, I don’t need any of your or Kenny’s pity!_

Despite the efforts to keep a straight face, Stan was powerless against his quivering lower lip and small sniffles escaping his body, it just all came so naturally. A body screaming for protection, for reassurance.

_Fuck you Kyle, please don’t leave me alone._

Kyle would hear it, of course he would, always did.

Just moments later, Stan would find himself being pulled into a shaky, tight hug and his head almost automatically found its way into the crook of Kyle’s neck, fitting perfectly like it was meant to be there. Like mother nature had somehow created Kyle’s neck crook exclusively for the sake of comforting Stan.

“I’m sorry.” Stan eventually managed to croak out after what seemed like an eternity, a few tears racing down his numb face, battling for first place, glance leading into the never-ending lines and rounded edges of these damned bathroom tiles – and suddenly Kyle couldn’t be mad at him anymore.

“I don’t know what to do, Kyle, I… I just keep fucking everything up. I even made you hate me.”

“Dude, I don’t hate you.” That was the truth. Even if the whole damn universe depended on it, Kyle would stick to the firm belief of being mentally unable to ever hate Stan.

A few moments pass and Stan eventually calmed down. He looked up at Kyle with eyes similar to a puppy waiting to be pet. A split second later, he hastily crashed their lips together but quickly recoiled again after realizing what he’d just done. Kyle was taken aback to say the least, he didn’t for the life of him see that coming.

“Fuck, sorry, that was… I don’t know.“ Stan tried to awkwardly explain himself.

“No, it’s- ..we can do it again.” The suggestion shot out of Kyle’s mouth faster than he’d wanted it to.

“I-if you want to, of course.” – he quickly added – “Maybe it’ll help calm you down.”

Kyle was blushing heavily now, just waiting for Stan to burst out into laughter, tell him how fucking gay that would be. But Stan didn’t laugh. In fact, he nodded, and swallowed hard. “Okay.”

_Wait, what?_ This must be a dream. Kyle unremarkably pinched himself in the side. Ow. Yep, no dream.

He had to pinch himself even harder though when his best friend suddenly leaned in and once again closed the inconvenient gap between them, this time softer. The redhead had to suppress a painful wince after realizing again that this was, in fact, actually happening. The kiss eventually lead to making out and both of them agreed later on, underneath Kyle’s comfy and welcoming sheets, that Stan would stop the suicidal drinking if it meant they could do something like this again whenever he’d need it. It had been Stan who suggested it and Kyle who agreed, unaware that their little deal would mark the beginning of something deadly.

\---

Minutes pass, half an hour.

“I got the scholarship.” Stan mentioned, glance drowning in the pool water, hoping Kyle wouldn’t hear him.

He did, unfortunately. Fuck him and his antelope ears.

“Wait what?”

He certainly didn’t mean for it to come out the way it did but it was too late when he realized. Quite frankly, Kyle had anticipated for Stan’s past love affair with alcohol to screw up the whole application process. In fact, he had been so sure about it he could’ve placed bets on it. And it would’ve been alright as well if he’d won them, because Stan could’ve gotten himself a nice job on the west coast while Kyle would’ve been acing his way through College, and it could’ve been just them again, just them forever. Yeah that sounded so nice in his head, he would’ve had no regrets putting and gloriously losing all his money on ‘Stan and him forever’.

However, puberty rolled around and the odds were more in favor of Stan and Wendy forever, Kyle only when it was convenient. Wendy, it was all Kyle could truly think about in that moment. Wendy, mentioning Duke to him as well. Wendy, surely convincing Stan to get back together last second. Stan, a dork who didn’t need much convincing despite the hell this girl had him put himself through emotionally.

Kyle on the other end, ending up bitter and alone at some prestigious Ivy League his mother had always envisioned him to go to. Kyle, maybe desperate enough to let some nerd suck him off once or twice a year, wondering what Stan was doing.

Yeah, all Kyle could think about was _himself,_ really.

“Guess Duke wants me on their next year’s football team.” Stan shrugged, snorting in disbelief and Kyle wanted to slap his lovely face for the tone, quite ungrateful and self-doubting at the same time. Instead, he pushed his super best friend. A small penalization for keeping his stubborn mouth shut for so long, Kyle told himself. But really, it was about more than that. It was about the finality of losing Stan, and the rare occasion of not knowing how to handle a situation. An inner turmoil Kyle could hardly justify, let alone acknowledge.

Of course Kyle knew that this moment, them realizing they were eventually, some day, going to split paths, was inevitable, but Kyle didn’t want this moment to happen right now, he was too drunk and too attached to Stan, still. He’d actually envisioned himself to be calm, collected. Calm, definitely sober. Giving Stan a proper hug, pat on the broad back, acting like it was all fine. After all, ‘emotional mess’ didn’t look good on him. On the flipside, Kyle also knew the odds of him reacting differently despite all the mental preparation in the world were quite small, but the mere fact that Stan had ripped him of that opportunity, how their little arrangement had ripped him of so many things, made him almost regret that one night in the bathroom.

Stan was definitely too shitfaced for playful punishments and fell backwards into the expensive looking pool. Not too shitfaced to get ahold of Kyle’s shoulder blades last second though, pulling him in as well. Both boys came up after a few seconds.

“Dude” Stan fished for his wet phone, setting it aside next to the water. “Why the hell did you do that?”

“Why wouldn’t _you_ tell me about the fucking scholarship when you knew it, Stan?”

Silence. Stan peered at him, dumbfounded, and Kyle wanted to rewind. Wanted to go back to making out again. Wanted to go back to the days where it was just Stan and him, Stan and him forever and no pretty girl or sports scholarship could’ve changed that.

“Because I thought it’s not that big a deal, alright?” Stan lied in a defensive tone.

“Oh please, you’ve been talking non-stop about it, wouldn’t be surprised if you sucked the dean’s dick too.”

“Stop being a douche, Ky. I thought you’d be happy for me.”

Kyle hated himself because he knew Stan was right, he should be happy for him. But it wasn’t like he could simply tell him the truth behind his acting out, especially not right now.

He couldn’t just say he miraculously discovered he had feelings for Stan and even worse, what eventually made him realize it was the occasional fucking around with him to keep him from doing something stupid. He couldn’t ever spill the quite embarrassing truth that the Marsh boy had in fact been his first real kiss, his first blow job and so many other ‘firsts’. After all, Stan was still adamant about being straight whenever Cartman called them fags, earning these knowing looks from Kenny which made Kyle wonder if he’d indeed spotted them or if they were just painfully obvious about it.

On some sleepless nights, Kyle would rack his brain trying to find Stan’s motivation behind still keeping this up. It’s been a few months after they broke up now and by Kyle’s estimates, Stan should be over it by now, he shouldn’t need Kyle to make him feel good anymore. Maybe it was the whole escapism aura that gave him a boner. The playing cat-and-mouse all night, the thrilling feeling of freedom and rebellion against the views of his pre-PC dad and the football team by pinning Kyle down in someone else’s bedroom, having him begrudgingly scream out Stan’s name over and over, all the while caught in the high of telling himself he didn’t need a relationship to feel good and worthy of love.

And while it very well may have all been just excitement and distraction for Stan, Kyle had been loosing himself a little too deeply in those forgiving cow eyes and the relentless manner of the barebacking, the lowly mumbled promises.

Whenever their arrangement came into play, Kyle would in all likelihood find himself alongside an empty pillow the next day, the self-hatred and bitterness slowly creeping in and devouring him alive despite his better judgement telling him he should’ve known better. He would feel disgusted by himself and curse his ability to fall for someone.

One day, during on of Wendy’s and Stan’s make up phases, he would come to school and ask Wendy if she could help him cover up the hickeys. She naively agreed to it, unaware of their origin. Kyle would silently watch, sickly enjoying the fact that she was essentially helping him cover up evidence from her, his own perfect little crime.

Does that make him an equivalent to the devil? Maybe.

Was he slowly going insane? Probably.

She would ask him who the lucky girl was and Kyle would blatantly lie. It clearly wasn’t his proudest moment and he cried himself to sleep that night, washing away all of Wendy’s proud efforts.

Well, he sure as hell couldn’t tell him that story either.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. I just wish you could’ve told me earlier.” Kyle said, trying to sound understanding.

“I know Kyle, I know, I’m sorry, was stupid of me. It’s just, …y’know, …I hate thinking about not seeing you and the guys anymore so I kinda… I thought not talking about it would make it less hurtful, I don’t know.”

Stan, with this stupid, beautiful, stupid smile plastered to his face that should probably serve as an apology. A minor tilt to the lovely pate, party-colored water just lit the face perfectly, better than any photographer could’ve. So pretty, hurt to look sometimes. Kyle tsks, deciding that now was not the time to be obvious about his web of lies.

“Yeah I get that.” – quick nod – ”How about we go inside then, celebrate your acceptance with a refill.”

Stan tried his best to cover up his inner turmoil for the rest of the night, blazing it with Craig Tucker of all people, and doing keg stands with Kenny, primarily due to Cartman (who showed up uninvited) coercing them into doing it. Kyle also found himself being cornered by him multiple times that night, whenever they got a chance to be alone, basically. Most recently when he wanted to get a refill in the kitchen and Stan was suddenly standing behind him.

Kyle could hear his own heart racing when Stan started nibbling at his lobe, tugging at the little earring with his teeth. He’d gotten it at 17 while being shitfaced at his first festival, much to the dismay of his mother who found out a week later. Almost got him kicked out.

“You’re enjoying that, huh?” Kyle remarked, stirring his drink. He felt Stan grinning against his neck and Kyle knew he should stop.

“You’re one to talk. Sure you aren’t loving it as well?”

The low, raspy whisper sent a lightning down Kyle’s spine and he froze in place. He felt himself getting hard, despite their semi-exhibitionism taking place in Token’s kitchen, quite literally one room away from the others. Kyle wondered why Stan was so needy, since Wendy wasn’t even here tonight.

”You say you don’t but look at you.” Stan grabbed Kyle’s jaw harshly, pushing his face closer to his own. “Like you’re just waiting for someone to walk in on me fucking you in here.”

Ever since he’d accidently admitted how much of a sucker for dirty talk he was, Stan had shamelessly used every opportunity to take advantage of it, yet the redhead couldn’t for the life of him deny that he was glad he did.

Kyle harshly grabbed Stan’s wrist and pulled it away, still grinning.

_Don’t, don’t, don’t. _

“Just shut up and find us a room.”

Although they’d done it a sure dozen times, the excitement always rose up again like they were first-time offenders. Kyle could feel his heart breaking through the ribcage any second and Stan took two steps at a time. Once they had found a vacant room, Stan had Kyle pushed against the wooden door in an instant, shutting it rather harshly.

“C’mere.” Kyle was a little out of breath from chasing up the stairs so quickly. He grabbed Stan by the thick hair, greedily closing the gap between their lips. He felt Stan grinning against his lips, broad hand cupping the blushing cheek. Kyle let go again, instead using his slender fingers to slip beneath Stan’s shirt, exploring the well-built torso.

The adrenaline pumping through his veins at high speed ironically made Kyle feel weak as he removed Stan’s shirt and carelessly chucked it on the floor, before removing his own and firmly grabbing Stan’s hard on through the pants, coaxing out a muffled sigh. The booze paired with the limited experience made for some unpolished movements, but Stan greedily soaked it all up nonetheless. He caught himself moaning and humming into the kiss a few times, instinctively grinding his painful erection against Kyle’s palm, pleading for release.

“You sound like a girl.” A sharp sneer within the tone and Kyle tightened his grip even more.

“Got a big mouth for someone that needy, Ky.” Stan huffed grinning, eyes fixated on Kyle’s movements.

“Hmm” Kyle hummed, continuing. “Never heard you complaining when that big needy mouth was sucking you off.”

It’s these comebacks that were just so _not-Kyle_ that left Stan incredibly dumbstruck, yet so, _so_ aroused. Sometimes, he wondered if the element of surprise just came naturally to Kyle or if he somehow had it all planned out. Either way, Stan started to feel like he was going to implode if he wasn’t at least throat-fucking Kyle within the next five minutes. He impatiently slapped the redheads hand away and his head felt heavy. “On your knees.”

“That’s what I thought.” Kyle whispered, grinning with relish, falling onto his knees despite his mind telling him to stop.

“Shut up.” Stan breathed as he was impatiently unbuckling his belt.

“Make me already.” the redhead challenged further, saliva starting to build up, made him feel as if Stan was serving him his favorite dish.

Stan aggressively yanked his trousers down his hairy thighs, definitely riled up by Kyles remarks.

“God, you’re so needy. You really want it that bad, huh?” he was palming himself through the boxers before lowering them painfully slowly, letting his rock hard cock pop out and almost slap Kyle into the pretty visage. He lazily ran his broad hand up and down a few times while the redhead ogled the movements eagerly, nodding. Stan wore a smug grin as he closed up on Kyle kneeling in front of him. He placed his cockhead on Kyle’s swollen lips and started tracing them, smearing his precum onto them.

“Earn it, then.” Stan whispered full of lust, eyes half-lidded, and Kyle already knew he’d regret this.

“How?” he asked, lips still barely touching the mouthwatering dick in front of him.

“Beg for it, Ky.”

“Dude, do I _have_ to do that?” Kyle asked a little embarrassed, although he already knew the answer.

“Shouldn’t be that hard, you’re drooling for it already.” Stan grinned triumphantly and Kyle was tempted to say how much he hated him for this.

“Fine.” – he gave in – ”I want you so badly, please, Stan. I wanna make you feel good.”

_Shut up, shut up._

“Wanna get you nice and wet for my tight hole.”

“Fuck, Ky. Keep going.” Stan egged him on greedily, slowly jerking himself off. As soon as he spotted the visible satisfaction in Stan’s eyes, the words just kept slipping out quite nonchalantly.

“You know I’ll blow you better than anybody else.”

“F-fuck, go for it, baby.” Stan mumbled lightheadedly.

The redhead sure didn’t need to be told twice. He licked his lips seductively before practically attacking his prey as if tonight was the last time he’d ever get to suck dick again. He deliberately decided to skip the whole preparatory, slow-and-sweet part and went straight to swift, skillful bobs, pausing in between to diligently suck on Stan’s pulsing cockhead, making him shiver in return.

“Balls, Ky.” was all Stan could croak out between heavy breaths, both arms out straight, bracing himself against the heavy wooden door, head hanging down loosely to properly eye Kyle’s movements. Kyle sucked in his cheeks before slowly pulling his spit-glossed lips off Stan’s cock with a sweet, audible_ pop_, all the while making sure to nonverbally torture him with blown emerald pupils. Even simply looking at his best friend like this, all slutty and hungry for his cock, it nearly suffocated Stan.

Kyle’s face nearly disappeared underneath his best friends pelvic area, as the tip of his tongue making its way across the full length, up and down the veins, up and down again, before greedily sucking and stuffing both of Stan’s balls into his warm mouth like they were cotton candy. While massaging them with his tongue, Kyle’s slick fingers firmly gripped Stan’s dick, rough tugging, thumb gliding across the tip over and over again, coaxing sinful, diabetes-evoking noises out of the Marsh boy.

Stan couldn’t ever get enough once he was lost in it, he always wanted more and more. He fiercly grabbed Kyle by his curls, yanking his face upwards again, before shoving his cock deeply into his mouth. Spit dribbled down Kyle’s chin as he was helplessly gagging at the size.

“Fuck yeah, that’s it. All the way.” Stan muttered lost in his high, lightly slapping Kyle’s stuffed cheek. The redhead opened his eyes again, runny nose and tears prickling at the corners.

“Stay still.” Stan bucked his hips forward, holding Kyle’s head in place, stretching his lips into thin lines over and over again. Kyle couldn’t help touching himself while Stan was shamelessly abusing his mouth. A few thrusts later, Stan begrudgingly pulled out, strings of spit still loosely connecting him to the other boy.

“Your turn.” Stan nodded over to the bed.

“Don’t bother.” – Kyle stood up, closing up on Stan – “Want you to fuck me already.”

He pushed Stan back onto the big mattress, crawling on top of him.

“Yeah?” – Stan shivered at the feeling of Kyle’s naked cock rubbing against his own – “You gonna ride me, Ky?”

“Until you come inside.” He really knew he shouldn’t.

“Fuck, dude.” Was all Stan could get out before eagerly shoving two of his fingers into his mouth.

“Already prepared myself while you were molesting my mouth.” Kyle informed him.

Stan pulled the fingers out again. Just as he thought Kyle couldn’t surprise him anymore.

“Shit you really are a slut, Ky.” – he said while grinding their dicks together slowly – “My slut.”

Sharp and lustful shivers were ripping through Kyle’s entire body while Stan’s words echoed in his mind. My slut, _my_ slut. Kyle had to keep telling himself that Stan meant it, that Kyle was really _his_ – because sex with Stan had stopped being just ‘sex with Stan’ a long time ago. His emotions were hanging by a thin thread now and Stan’s possessiveness in bed was a crucial factor in saving them.

Kyle braced himself on Stan’s sweaty chest with a flat hand, spat into the free one and aligned Stan’s cock with his hole, before lowering himself nice and slowly, getting those arousing deep groans out of his best friend. Kyle took a few moments to adjust himself to the size before picking up a steady pace, angling his hips to make for an even more pleasurable experience. Stan had one hand behind his head and another one on Kyle’s amazing ass, grabbing it protectively. Kyle had his back arched, picking up speed, looking down at Stan.

“Touch yourself while you fuck me.” Stan ordered softly, giving Kyle’s ass an audible slap.

“Like that?” Kyle asked innocently, tugging on his own cock.

“Yeah, like that.”

“Or-“ – he pinched his hard little nipple with another hand before eagerly sucking on his fingers, jerking himself off faster – “More like this? You like that, hmm?”

“F-fuck, you… fuck. I can’t even look at you.” Stan breathed heavily and started bucking his hips upwards viciously, a fine coat of sweat gracing the well-defined chest.

Kyle threw his head back when Stan finally reached his weak spot, red curls bouncing to the left and right, all over the place just like him. He shamelessly let out every high-pitched moan, every cock-worshipping phrase, every curse, just to gracelessly rub it into everyone’s face – tonight, it was Stan and him forever again.

“Shit, you’re so beautiful.” Stan’s voice was chopped and hoarse but the words eclipsed every other syllable Kyle’s ever heard, dangerously addictive – and Kyle was always starving for his next fix, ready to give his heart and soul for a lifetime supply of sweet lies, so desperate it was bordering on self-harm.

Stan bucked his hips upwards even harder, supporting himself with his feet stomped deeply into the mattress, tight grip promising to leave bruises on Kyle’s milky, freckled hips. Kyle gripped Stan’s calves for dear life, nails digging into sunkissed skin, all the while thanking his used spine for still taking it all.

“All mine.” Stan groaned aggressively, and Kyle wanted a signed contract, wanted to know for a fact that Stan didn’t talk like that to Wendy as well, that his eyes weren’t all that tender and loving too.

“All yours.” Kyle confirmed dreamily, the alluring, distant tunes from Token’s 90s playlist paired with Stan’s relentless fucking making him fantasize about what it could be like to be loved unconditionally.

“Harder.” Kyle demanded and Stan listened, picking up even more speed, ruthlessly penetrating Kyle’s prostate with every so eager thrust. Kyle felt his hearing becoming dulled and his vision getting blurry from all the overstimulation. His skin was all tingly and numb and just about when he felt like passing out, he hit the point of no return.

“Stan, I’m… I’m going to-“

“Let me make you.”

Tight grip on Kyle’s leaking cock while deeply thrusting into the used hole with enviable stamina, all the sweat enabling the seamless gliding.

Stan sat up to kiss Kyle. Making out while feeling cum run down his hand and hearing all the sinful noises was another thing the Marsh boy could endlessly get off to, even if he won’t admit it.

“Fuck, Stan.” Kyle moaned helplessly into the kiss, opening his eyes widely, questioning if it should be legal to feel this much pleasure. Stan intertwined their fingers with his free hand.

“That’s it, come for me, Ky.” he whispered and Kyle’s toes curled.

A few more strokes and he was sent over the edge, the sweet release ripping through his body relentlessly, wrecking everything on its way and Kyle felt so good he feared it might kill him right there and then. A devilish grin appeared on Stan’s face, seeing just how damn good he could still please Kyle. Got him so close as well.

“Gonna come too.” Stan notified, thrusts becoming deeper and shakier, whole body trembling its way to release.

“Fill me up.” Kyle mumbled, lost in the afterglow of riding out his own orgasm, not even considering his word choice anymore. Stan failed to swallow his sudden loud moans and curses as he came in the redhead, clinging to his quite unforgettable ass.

“Fuck. I love you Kyle.” He let out completely breathlessly against Kyle’s lips as pleasure was racing through his veins, eyes squinted shut, erratic twitching underneath his best friend.

Kyle lowered his head a little, bringing their foreheads together, leaning on Stan for support, their fingers still intertwined. He tried his best to swallow the dull pain these words caused. They sometimes slipped out of Stan after really, really amazing sex, but Kyle could never bring himself to say them back. He feared he might start to cry if he did, throwing terrible accusations at Stan in the process, about how he’s unaware of further ruining his life with every quick kiss when no one was looking, how he wished he could just wake up with amnesia one day, forgetting Stan and his dumb face and all their stupidly beautiful adventures.

Kyle rolled off of Stan. The Marsh boy turned onto his side, snuggling up to Kyle, planting little kisses on his neck, mumbling unrecognizable things about how he loved him, how he was going to miss him, how College would suck balls without him. Kyle was close to crying, knowing _this_ will never be a real thing, no matter how often they’d fuck and how often Stan would say the magical lie, because he’d always parrot the contrary lie on the next day: _I’m not gay._

Ten, fifteen minutes and Kyle was almost sure Stan had fallen asleep. Without letting his heart talk him into something again, he got up and quietly freed himself from Stan’s embrace. He picked up whatever piece of his clothing he could manage to find, got dressed and left the room. On his way out, Kenny was embracing him, ready to interview him about sneaking away with Stan earlier. Kyle just lied, told him Stan got sick but is fine now and sleeping upstairs, before making his way past the shitfaced blonde, holding back the tears.

On his way home, nagging thoughts came to him, about the past, the future, about Stan, and how he lived his life.

It was a life full of façade, of pretending, of denial. It was a life Stan had grown accustomed to, had talked himself into enjoying. But it was also a life he was secretly afraid of, with so many things already depending on the make-believe, too many to let the curtains down now. Because Stan was a damn people-pleaser, mastering conflict avoidance. Because Stan hated change or confrontation, even with himself.

Kyle knew how it goes when alcohol mixes with Stan’s inner turmoil, that their arrangement would lead to them ending up in someone else’s bed, knew that he’d always make room for his best friends starving for affection, his odd but somehow lovely quirks and mannerisms – because Kyle would truly, and unconditionally, give his all for the Marsh boy, even if he’s covering it with the excuse of just wanting to help out a friend.

And who knew, maybe Stan would come around one day, finally face and accept who he truly was. And maybe, when the time has come, Kyle would have the guts to do the same.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading through this longass thing heh
> 
> I briefly considered writing a really sweet ending, but then again I love sad/hopeless open endings to torture myself with lol
> 
> anyway thanks so much, feedback as always appreciated !! <3


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